


Rewarding Good Behavior

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Studying for NEWTs, library smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 16:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19727170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: Something happened in the Forest of Dean once Ron left. Over the course of their eighth year, Hermione's been determined to ignore it until Harry takes matters into his own hands by insisting he needs help with his NEWTs.





	Rewarding Good Behavior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexandraO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraO/gifts).



> This was written for AlexandraO's birthday, which is TODAYYYY. Thank you for being such a great beta, and one of my best fandom friends. I'd get nothing done without you when it comes to Harmony. I hope you'll enjoy this!
> 
> Warnings: well, it's some pretty serious smut so.
> 
> Thanks to Frumpologist for looking this over and reassuring me it is worth posting. Grammarly was my beta. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Note: the title sucks, but it's all I got.

* * *

"Hermione, _please,_ " Harry pleaded. He was right behind her, with no sense of personal space, as she shelved books in the Hogwarts library. "I know you have to study for your own NEWT's, but—"

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, did you think I was going to tell you no?" Hermione turned to face him, planting her hands on her hips while she gave him a terse look.

"Well," he muttered, "you didn't say yes."

She snorted. "You didn't give me the chance. You've been babbling about your NEWT's for the last fifteen minutes. We started in the section all the way over there." She pointed over his shoulder, and he humoured her by following the motion. "Of course I'll help you, but don't tell Ron."

Harry leaned against the shelf, blocking her path, crossing one leg over the other. "I take it the two of you haven't talked then."

Hermione shrugged, attempting to get around him, but he steered her back into place. A shiver ran down her spine as his fingers tightened on her shoulders. "There's nothing to talk about. We dated a few weeks, and it blew up in our faces. I'll consider myself lucky if we ever get back to just friends without the awkwardness."

"Did you—I mean, he hasn't said anything to me."

Her eyes widened, and she knew her cheeks were hot. She and Harry hadn't discussed just what had happened in the Forest of Dean after Ron left them. Not that she didn't want to. Her curiosity was threatening to suffocate her. "There was nothing to tell him." She swallowed thickly.

"Nothing?" Harry echoed, a flash of hurt that made her heart clench flashing across his face.

"I," Hermione broke off. "I never told Ron anything. He and I were as much together as the time as you and Ginny were. I didn't feel obligated to tell him anything." It wasn't completely true. Each time Ron had touched her, as innocent as they were since that was all she'd allowed, Hermione was reminded of someone else.

Harry. Reminded of his hands roaming over every inch of her, and his lips pressing against everywhere his hands went.

"Right then. Sorry, I was just wondering if I should expect an accident during quidditch practice." Still, his expression was tight, and his voice icy. "Since there's _nothing_ to talk about here, I'll be off. When can we study?"

Her heart sank. She was doing a splendid job of putting an even larger wedge between them. "I'm free tonight."

"We have a match tonight, 'Mione. Did you forget?"

She wished that she still had a book in her hand so her fingers could grip something. As it was, she was only balling her hands into fists, and if he did notice, Hermione didn't want to explain why she was so nervous. He could read her like an open book. "I did." Hermione grimaced. "It's been a long day. This weekend?"

"Saturday night." Harry agreed. "Will you watch the match tonight?" He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Hermione nodded. "Of course. I would have remembered, but you know I wouldn't want to miss it."

His smile made her feel better, at least a bit.

* * *

Gryffindor won against Hufflepuff, which no one had doubted they would.

The three days between the match and the study session with Harry threatened to drive her mental. Their 'eighth' year had been quiet, the only conflict being when Hermione and Harry had broken up with their respective Weasleys.

She tapped her quill against the table, biting her lower lip. Here they were at the end of the year, or almost at the end, and Hermione had acted the part of a coward. After the war, she and Ron had given things a try against her better judgement. Seeing Ginny throw her arms around Harry's neck in the aftermath of the Final Battle had served the tiny, now large, bit of jealousy in Hermione's stomach. But even when the two had broken up, just after she and Ron, Hermione still didn't have the nerve to ask Harry about the night they had spent together.

Eight o'clock came and went without Harry entering the library. She let it go, knowing that he was often late, and settled for writing her foot of parchment for defence. By 8:45, she found herself irritated as she rose from her seat. Cramming all of her texts into her bag, and throwing it over her shoulder, Hermione walked briskly toward Gryffindor tower.

He was probably distracted, but it did nothing to calm her anger. _He'd_ said Saturday. _He'd_ said they could meet at eight, and while it wasn't a loss for her—she'd completed her essay—it would have been nice to know he was blowing her off.

Hermione muttered the weekly password and stepped through the Fat Lady's portrait. "You're kidding." It was said beneath her breath.

Harry leaned back in a chair, laughing loudly at something Seamus or Dean said. His eyes fell on her as she neared the table, and he mouthed, "Shite." He sprung to his feet, meeting her in the middle of the common room. "Hermione—"

"Don't ask me to help you pass your NEWT's if you can't even bother to show up." She blurted. "Honestly, Harry, I wouldn't have been angry if you'd told me."

He bobbed his head, his movements slow, and as he opened his mouth again, she noticed.

"Have you been drinking?" She whispered.

Harry looped his arm through hers, pulling her toward the portrait she'd just come through. "Come here." He didn't leave her much choice as he dragged her into the corridor, and then down it. He only stopped once they were stowed away in an alcove. "I didn't drink very much."

Hermione dragged a hand down her face. "You're the worst."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You don't really think that." Harry took a sudden step forward, and her back hit the stone behind her. "Something you said has been bothering me." He lifted a hand, fidgeting with a curl that lay beside her breast. "It wasn't nothing, was it?"

She blinked several times. "What do you mean?"

His eyes were dark as he dipped his head lower. "What you said in the library, that there was nothing to tell Ron. Do you think it's nothing?"

Swallowing, Hermione's palms grew clammy. "No, I don't."

She didn't get a chance to ask why he'd asked before he kissed her. Harry's hands cupped her face, thumb swiping across her cheekbone, but that was the only soft thing about his kiss. His lips were hard against hers as if he were angry with her, but Hermione wasn't of the mind to care when his hand dropped to her hips. They gripped her so roughly she worried they might bruise.

In the same thought, Hermione realised she didn't mind at all.

A moan tore free of her when he rubbed slow circles into her hips when her shirt rode up. "Harry," she whispered.

When he pulled away, Harry leaned his forehead to hers. "Fuck, it's just how I remember."

Her heart was going to beat out of her chest, she was certain. Hermione grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him again. Beneath her hand, she could feel his heartbeat, rapid below her fingers. She whispered his name, letting him lift her and press her to the wall. "I missed you." She admitted.

Light shined into the alcove, and she attempted to separate herself from Harry. Not that he wanted to. "What do we—" Of all the prefects who could have caught them, it had to be Ron. Even on the receiving end of a bright _Lumos_ , it was obvious how red his face was growing. "How long has this been going on?"

Hermione looked at Harry, unsure of how to answer.

Clearing his throat, Harry replied, "Not very long. It was my idea not to tell you since I didn't think you'd take it well."

"Understatement." Ron's tone was clipped. "Hermione, do you mind leaving? I just want to talk to Harry."

She did mind actually.

Harry's hand slid down her spine, sliding all the way down to cup her bum. There was a smug smile on his face when she squeaked. "I'll catch up with you."

* * *

Whether it was because Ron didn't want everyone to think that Harry had gotten the girl, or because he didn't care, Hermione didn't know. What she did know was that no one else knew what had occurred between her and Harry in a dark alcove.

Her hips had been bruised the next morning, and she carried the delightful ache with her for the rest of that day.

Harry flicked her a note in the middle of Defence, urging her to unravel the piece of parchment immediately. _Study tonight? 9? I swear I won't blow you off this time._

She laughed to herself and dipped her quill into the jar of ink at the top of her desk. _Okay, but this is your last chance!_

The rest of the day seemed to drag on. She watched Gryffindor's quidditch practice on the pitch while balancing a book on her knee. Though her gaze tended to stray toward their Seeker, and she only read eight pages over the course of an hour and a half.

Hermione arrived in the library fifteen minutes early. She settled into her seat in the back of the library, tucked away from wandering eyes and other distractions. She opened her notes for Potions, needing to memorise several brews and uses for their upcoming NEWT's.

Harry pulled out a chair, turning it backward, and sitting on it with his forearms laid across the back. "I'm early."

She laughed quietly. "Would you like a reward for that?"

He hummed. "Yes."

Her knee bumped the underside of the table. "Pardon?"

"A reward, I said I would like one. Surely you had something in mind since you said it?" Harry dragged his chair to her side of the table, his knee bumping hers as he took his seat. "'Mione?"

"What do you want?"

"I'd like to kiss you until it's nine."

Ten minutes.

Hermione threw herself at him, her palms sliding up his chest as he caught her. Sitting in his lap, Hermione pressed herself against him. "That sounds fair." She whispered.

Merlin help her if Madam Pince came to the back of the library for any reason.

Her fingers sunk into his hair, tugging on the soft strands. She was breathless, her head spinning as Harry kissed her so thoroughly. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers twisting in her hair. "Harry, don't—"

The two of them flipped backward, and she rolled off of him after a loud "oof" left him. "Are you alright?" He asked. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Of course you didn't. Get up before Madam Pince comes to check on us and finds us in the floor." Hermione scrambled back into her chair, crossing her legs. As she suspected, the librarian did come to the back of the room and took a long look at the two of them.

"She's gone," Harry murmured when she vanished behind several bookshelves. "Come here."

She shook her head. Raising her wand, Hermione tapped it. "It's 9:05, Potter. Time to study if you want to be accepted into the Auror Program."

Harry studied beside her, occasionally tracing her thigh with wandering fingers beneath the table. "Focus on your textbook, 'Mione." He rasped. He read a chapter for Defence slowly—one that had been issued two weeks ago—and surprised her when he gripped her thigh.

Breathing heavily, Hermione angled herself toward him, and her legs parted. "Have you finished your chapter?" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I've finished." Truly, she'd only memorised the preparation and uses of one potion.

He quickly caught her hint. "Would you like a reward?"

Not trusting her voice, she only nodded.

"Sure," Harry drawled, and her heart dropped in anticipation as his fingers slid closer to the apex of her thighs. "But only if I can choose what it is."

"Okay," Hermione breathed.

Harry scooted closer to her, careful to pick up his chair so as not to make a sound. He cast a silencing charm before letting his wand lay discarded on the table. "This okay?" He murmured, his fingers barely brushing her clit through her knickers after flipping her skirt up.

"Yes."

He circled her clit, bending down to kiss her. It was a slow kiss, the same tempo of his fingers as he caused her to slump in the chair. "Let me hear you." Harry pressed his lips to her throat, moving down at an agonizingly slow pace. "Come on, Hermione. No one will hear you but me."

She whimpered, and her hands flew up to his forearms. Hermione choked on his name as he pushed her knickers to the side. "Oh, God. We're in a _library._ "

Harry chuckled. "What are Fluxweed and Boomslang used for?"

The pace of his fingers quickened and she stuttered out, "W-what?"

Teasing her, his fingers slowed. "I _said_ what are Fluxweed and Boomslang used for, Hermione?" Harry nipped her ear, breath fanning across her neck. "If you get it right, I'll give you something else."

Hermione struggled to focus, pushing herself closer to his hand. "Polyjuice." She gasped. "It's Polyjuice."

"Good girl." One finger slid inside of her, curling, and he dragged a long moan from her. "What are the ingredients and the order they must be used to brew Draught of Peace?"

Fuck, she didn't know. Hermione shook her head. "I can't."

He clicked his tongue. "How many times must it be stirred?"

Professor Snape had taught them. She vaguely remembered the lesson. "I—just let me—" Hermione stood, whimpering at the absence of him. Reaching all the way across the table, she flipped through her textbook in an attempt to find the answer. "Seven times, both clockwise and counterclockwise."

"Sit on the table," Harry told her, swatting her arse before rubbing the cheek.

Hermione turned, gripping the edge of the table as she sat just on the edge. She took in the sight of his messy hair, and his typical grin as he stepped between her legs. Clutching him to her by his shirt, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Harry disentangled himself from her, ignoring her whine of protest as he sank to his knees. He pulled her cotton knickers down her legs, shoving them in his pocket with a wild grin. "What's the first step in brewing Draught of Living Death?"

Sure of what he was going to do next, Hermione blurted, "You have to add an infusion of Wormwood."

Harry lowered his head, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulder, and his tongue slid up her slit. Close, but not quite where she wanted it. "Such a good girl."

"I can be better if you'll just—"

Two fingers slid into her slick cunt, pumping into her quickly. He asked, "And the last step?"

"Stir seven times counter-clockwise!" He licked her clit, ceasing all questions. Hermione's head fell back, and her fingers latched onto his hair while she moaned. "Harry, Harry," She fell onto her forearms, unable to hold herself up any longer while his tongue flicked across her clit. "Please, I—"

"You're so fucking pretty. Stunning like this while you're grinding on my fingers." Harry growled, and her heart threatened to stop. "Are you going to let me fuck you, Hermione?"

She nodded, her legs shaking. "Please, Harry." Hermione wasn't sure the table would be sturdy enough when she stopped to think about it, but he didn't give her much of a chance. She found herself bent over the table, knocking a jar of ink over that she would have to clean later. Her arms were braced over her notes over potions.

Harry unzipped his trousers, and she lifted her head, peeking behind her. He gripped his cock as the head brushed her slit. "This is all you're going to think about when you come here." He barely slid into her, stretching her around his cock, and her hand crumpled the parchment below it. "Me fucking you over this table. Hogwarts' Head Girl is taking my cock in the middle of the library." Harry dragged his lips down her spine.

She hissed in pleasure, arching her back, and pushing herself backward. As he pushed into her inch by inch, teasing her with filthy words of how tight she was, Hermione snapped, "Harder!"

And he didn't disappoint.

Harry slammed into her, the table shaking below her as she held onto it. "Like that?"

She nodded, not quite trusting herself not to scream. Hermione knew the library would be closing soon, and that Madam Pince would return fifteen minutes before curfew to usher them out, and she _told_ Harry that, but he couldn't be bothered to hurry.

"Don't want anyone to see you like this?" He rasped, his hips snapping forward. "I'll hurry then." Harry reached around, rubbing her clit roughly as the edge of the table began to dig into her thighs. "I want you to come on my cock. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

She knocked his wand off the table as she shuddered with her orgasm. Hermione whimpered as it hit her, and moaned his name as his thrusts slowed.

Harry righted her skirt as she stood. His lips were bruised, his cheeks flushed, and Hermione swallowed. "This isn't a one time thing, right?" He asked. He rubbed his hands together nervously.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think we could ever be a one time thing, not even when we tried."

His shoulders fell, no longer tense, and he sighed in relief. Harry grabbed his wand, cleaning the ink she'd knocked over. "Bad news, you're probably going to have to re-write that essay." He laughed. "Good news, you're definitely going to pass you Potions NEWT."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him slowly for a long moment before they were interrupted by Madam Pince clearing her throat. "We were just leaving," Hermione said, her face hot. "Oh, God." She whispered as the librarian left them with a disbelieving look.

He grabbed her bag, insisting that he carry it before taking her hand. "Come on."

"Wait!" She hissed. "My knickers."

He patted his pocket. "Not to worry. I have them"

"So give them back." Hermione tried to slip her hand into his pocket herself, but he caught her wrists before she got close. "You're not giving them back? Why not?"

He leaned in, whispering into her ear, "I think I like the idea of my come running down your legs while you walk back to Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione gulped. "But…"

As he led her from the library with the promise that he now knew how to get past the charms on the girl's dorms, and the one on the personal room that belonged to her as Head Girl, she stopped arguing.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you think!


End file.
